By Jeanne Bryner
If you see wrist scars
check both ankles
offer to wash her feet.
From: "Smoke" by Jeanne Bryner
I don't recall how I stumbled upon this book of poetry, but I love every poem in it. Ms. Bryner is a Registered Nurse and an award-winning poet/writer. Her poetry is awesome, skillfully bringing the love, care, frustrations and deep devotion of her vocation to the craft of poetry. I have 5 nurses in my family and my husband is a retired nurse. They (along with school teachers) are truly the neglected, under-paid, under-appeciated heroes of our world.
Now is the time to be mute.
I will sit beside you without speaking.
I will cushion your bones in silence.
I will put my ear to your ear
and wait to hear a wave's scant echo
rippling from the distant rim. ~Alice Cone, "A Time to be Mute
Hug and thank a nurse next time you encounter them (after the flu season is over).
"Nursing is an art: and if it is to be made an art, it requires an exclusive devotion as hard a preparation, as any painter's or sculptor's work; for what is the having to do with dead canvas or dead marble, compared with having to do with the living body, the temple of God's spirit? It is one of the Fine Arts: I had almost said, the finest of Fine Arts." ~Florence Nightingale
Always thank your nurse,
Sometimes the only one between you and a hearse.